


A Great Idea

by birdwafflecereal



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Gen, i wanted to write itty bitty timbers and my brain manifested that, so tim is 13 and jason is 19 here, this is lowkey an au bc i accidentally gave tim and jay like 6 years of difference?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:35:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdwafflecereal/pseuds/birdwafflecereal
Summary: It's time for the annual December Gift Exchange at the Manor and young Tim Drake enlists the help of a certain someone in the hopes of coming up with the best possible gift.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 1
Kudos: 78
Collections: Gift Exchange 2020





	A Great Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarryStories2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryStories2/gifts).



> Starry you were my giftee! Sorry I'm a month late :,) 
> 
> This story was supposed to be about baking, that was the prompt at least, but I guess my brain didn't like that, so here it is, whatever this is! Also please excuse the shitty summary haha. I hope people (Starry in particular) enjoy it :3
> 
> Special thanks to my (vArious) betas Tate, Riri, Jess, Phi and Lilly! Love you guys thanks for the help <3

_ This is a bad idea, _ thought Tim as he made his way down the dingy fire escape. The metal structure creaked menacingly, clearly not bolted properly to the decaying Crime Alley building it was attached to.

Finally, Tim found the window he’d been looking for. At first glance, it was no different than the others, but Robin wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Taking out his gear, he began the painstaking process of breaking into the unsuspecting apartment without tripping any of the security measures he was sure would be in place.

After a while (less than Tim had expected, he noted with pride) the locks gave and the boy slipped inside.

Tim wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. The place was small and modest, but it was Alfred levels of clean and perfectly orderly. Not at all what one would expect from a criminal. The main room was a kitchenette, and Tim headed for the gray sofa which marked the line between the kitchen area and living area.

The boy plopped down on the soft cushions. Since the person he was looking for didn’t seem to be home, he might as well make himself comfortable. Taking out his laptop from his backpack, Tim opened back up the tabs he’d been skimming through for a school project and pulled out his notes.

Thankfully, he only had to wait about half an hour. His project was painfully dull. Keys jingled outside the door as the apartment’s tenant let himself in. Tim made his presence scarce in the characteristic Bat way Bruce had taught him.

The man must have been distracted as he didn’t immediately notice the teen sitting uninvited on his couch, even though Tim’s frame reached his field of vision.

Hesitantly, Tim cleared his throat, and was pleasantly greeted with a gun pointed at right between his eyes.

“H- It's me! Robin! Don’t shoot!” Tim yelped, hands coming up to uselessly cover his face.

“Fucking Replacement? The fuck you doing here?”

Tim flinched at the nickname but didn’t say anything. Jason’s tone was angry and suspicious, and Tim really couldn’t blame him. If he’d died and come back to find the place he’d thought belonged to him occupied by some nobody, he’d be angry and suspicious of himself, too.

“Uh,” Tim answered dumbly. This did not improve Jason’s aggressive demeanor.

“If you’re here to prove some point, leave before I shoot you again.” 

Tim didn’t really blame Jason for that one. Getting shot hadn’t been fun, but they now knew Jason had been heavily under the influence of Pit Madness at the time. Plus, if he planned to remain in the vigilante business, it was unlikely that he could avoid getting shot for much longer. Nevertheless, Tim gulped at the threat.

“So, the holidays are coming up-” 

Jason’s angry expression morphed into one of confusion. However, Tim would not be deterred. 

“-And we’re doing a Gift Exchange, and I got Alfred. And, well, I guess you wouldn’t come to the Manor even if I asked, so I thought that Alfred might like it if you, uh, kinda participated even if you didn’t come?”

Jason stared, so Tim took that as an invitation to keep going. 

“And, obviously, I’m not here to tell you to go buy a present so I, uh, thought we could, uhm, bake? Something?"

Jason kept staring, his expression carefully blank. The gun had disappeared back into its holster during Tim’s spiel, and Tim was hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t get shot again and have to drag himself back to the Manor all the way across Gotham.

“What kind of question is that?!” Jason finally said, startling Tim with the sudden outburst. “I’m- I shot you! I’ve repeatedly threatened to hurt you! And now you’re asking me to  _ bake _ with you?!”

It wasn’t that hard. 

“You’re Robin.” Tim simply answered. And that was really all there was to it.

Some emotion Tim couldn’t identify passed through Jason’s face for a second before it shifted back into a blank mask. The older boy turned his back to Tim, leaning heavily on the kitchen island.

There was a pregnant silence, tension buzzing in the air. Just as Tim was about to say  _ something, anything, _ to break the uncomfortable silence, Jason turned to him, expression stuck somewhere in between decisiveness and reluctance “Fine.”

Tim blinked, “Really?” The other boy gave him a look that screamed  _ don’t make me repeat myself _ .

Tim’s face split into a giddy grin, which Jason elected to ignore in favor of finally shedding his jacket and dropping his groceries on the kitchen counter.

Truth be told, Tim hadn’t been expecting to be successful when he’d tracked down Jason’s whereabouts with a friendly request on his tongue. Hell, his best hope had been to get safely back home with nothing broken and the knowledge about his little field trip remaining hidden from Wayne Manor’s inhabitants. So, suffice to say, Jason agreeing to honest to God  _ bake together _ , and with  _ him _ , Tim, the new  _ Robin, _ had him wanting to jump with joy.

“On one condition.” 

Tim’s head snapped away from where he’d let himself space out. Jason was scowling at him, but it somehow seemed more lighthearted than before. “You’re the one who’s paying for all the ingredients. The only thing I’m providing is the kitchen. Leave before I change my mind, and use the  _ door _ next time.”

  
  


On the agreed upon date, which had been set after Jason (somehow) obtained Tim’s civilian cell number, the young Robin stood with a bagful of baking ingredients in front of his predecessor’s beat down blue door. Knocking timidly, Tim waited. A few seconds passed before Jason opened the door, sporting a bored expression. 

“Replacement,” Jason greeted. He didn’t wait for Tim before he moved into the apartment. The younger boy followed, not faltering despite the less than friendly reception. Not that he’d been expecting anything less.

Walking into the apartment after some weeks, Tim noticed some changes. Most notably, the orange cat curled up on the sofa. The boy carefully stepped back. It wasn’t that he didn’t  _ like _ cats, per se, but his allergies didn’t really give him much of a choice.

“Scared of a little fluff ball, are we?” Jason teased

“I’m  _ allergic _ ! Pardon if I don’t want my larynx to close up and land me in the hospital.”

Tim’s peeved tone seemed to amuse the older vigilante, who had the indecency to snort at Tim's plight. 

“That’s Lobster, she’s a street cat I let in sometimes during the winter. She doesn’t much like people, so I wouldn’t worry about her bothering you.”

Tim blinked. He wasn’t really expecting reassurances as much as he’d been expecting relentless mocking.  _ Robin, scared of a cat! _ The boy shook his head at the thoughts. Those were  _ his  _ intrusive thoughts, his issues, and he shouldn’t have expected Jason to reflect them. The oldest Robin wasn’t a bad person, despite evidence that declared otherwise, and the fact they were even doing this at all proved exactly as much.

“So, are we doing this thing, or are you having that much fun standing in my living room and looking at nothing?”

Tim felt his face heat up with embarrassment. Okay, maybe Jason was a  _ little _ mean. “I’m sure I could do both. I’m excellent at multitasking.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but the tilt of his mouth suggested amusement, which Tim was counting as a victory.

“Multitask by putting this on and giving me my ingredients then,” Jason said sharply, but jokingly, and Tim was hit with a ball of cloth. How did he not catch that? 

Tim mustered all his self control and refrained from blowing a raspberry at the older boy. Instead, he laid his bag on the counter and unfurled the cloth missile because he was mature like that.

“You gotta be kidding me!” The cloth was an apron, but instead of any simple color the  _ thing _ was mint green with a cartoonish puppy emblazoned the front exclaiming  _ ‘Yum!’  _

Tim leveled Jason with what was probably the most deadpan look he had ever given anyone. It was the perfect picture of  _ ‘are you shitting me right now?’ _ Jason was wheezing with laughter. From the couch, Lobster’s head peeked out, attracted by all the ruckus. Tim was  _ not _ having fun and was frankly starting to rethink his earlier statement about Jason not being a bad person. 

“I’m not wearing this, give me yours,” Tim declared as he reached for Jason’s apron, but the older boy was as quick as a striking serpent, and in a second the black apron that had laid in the counter was hidden behind his back.

“If you wanted a nicer apron, you should have just brought your own.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to Tim he would be needing an apron, but he wasn’t about to tell Jason that. With an expression that was very much  _ not _ a pout, Tim tied the heinous thing behind his back. Jason mirrored him, dabbing at his eyes as if the prank had been so funny he’d cried tears of laughter (which he hadn’t! Tim had seen it!), and Tim could now see the words _ ‘I cook as good as I look’  _ stamped in the front. The boy cringed. Okay… maybe he would fare better with the puppy apron.

“Jesus kid, did you buy the entire stock they had in store?”

“I didn’t buy  _ that _ much. It’s your fault anyway, if you’d told me what we’re making I would have bought less!”

“I gave you the  _ exact _ ingredients-”

“What if we ran out!? Or what if we burnt the first batch and needed more ingredients, huh!? Your measurements didn’t account for that!”

Jason looked like he wanted to facepalm, but Tim  _ knew _ he was right and would fight over it.

“Alright, fuck it, more free food for me after we’re done. Alright short stuff, today we’re gonna be making queijadas de requeijão. It translates  _ very loosely _ to cottage cheese cheesecakes, and they’re a traditional Portuguese sweet. Alfred’s mom was an immigrant from there, and Alf used to mention how good her sweets were, so we’re gonna try to imitate that. Is it gonna be anything similar? I highly doubt that, but I’m sure we won’t do a half bad job.”

Tim was unsure if the whole spiel was directed at him or for Jason himself, so he just nodded along.

“Okay, Replacement, I want you to find me three glass bowls, a wooden spoon, a rolling pin, a whisk, cling wrap, and a muffin mold. You have thirty seconds.”

Tim’s head snapped up, alarmed. “What?!”

“Thirty seconds!”

With no time for thinking, Tim lunged for the cabinets. The first items were easy to find, and Tim remembered seeing the cling wrap already on the counter, so that one was a trap. Time was running out and he couldn’t find the muffin mold. 

“10 seconds!”

Frantically shoving pans aside, the Robin finally found his treasure, wedged between a wooden cutting board and the wall. He slammed it on the counter just as Jason exclaimed, “Time!”

Tim panted. It had only been thirty seconds, but he’d just made a mad dash around the kitchen so he felt justified in being out of breath. Tim glared at the older boy, who was sporting a shit eating grin. 

“What was that for?”

“Wanted to see how quick you are. Robin’s gotta have top form if he doesn’t want to get hit. Then you’d just be a nuisance to Batman.”

Tim tried not to think of the words ‘Robin,’ ‘nuisance,’ and ‘Batman’ in the same string of sentences, anxiety and negative thoughts creeping in on him. Instead he put his game face on. “Okay, so now we have every utensil. What now?”

“Well,  _ first _ you wash those dirty hands-”

“Shut up-"

A water fight was just barely avoided as Jason decided he would wash his hands at the same time as Tim, and then, finally, the boys were ready to get baking.

“First things first, the dough. Since it’s your gift, you’re the one getting your hands dirty, Replacement, I’m just the instructor. First of all, you get the butter-”

“Wait, careful-”

Tim might or might not have miscalculated how much flour he should have put in the bowl, and a flurry of white powder exploded in Jason’s kitchen, leaving both boys looking like white ghosts.

Tim flashed his most innocent smile as Jason glared at him. “Don’t you give me those puppy dog eyes, Replacement, I’m still making you clean my kitchen.”

“But it was an accident!”

“I don’t care!”

_ This was fun, _ Tim thought tentatively. Jason didn’t seem to be a violent person behind closed doors. He was actually quite nice and chill. Tim still remembered those decapitated heads though, and now he was having a hard time reconciling these two images of his predecessor in his mind. As a vigilante, Jason was brutal and almost cruel at times, but as a civilian, he was provocative at most. It didn’t make any sense to Tim. 

As Jason coached him on how to knead the sticky mess of a dough they’d made, and as they got the kitchen semi-cleaned, Tim wondered if it was that important. He was obviously loyal to Batman’s values. After all, he was Robin, Batman’s partner, the one who was there to catch the Dark Knight when he fell. But now, Tim was questioning if it really mattered how Jason chose to bring justice into the streets. Robin wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the reports, and they clearly showed a drop in teenage drug use, drug trafficking, human trafficking, and so much more since the Red Hood had first made his debut in the grimy streets of Crime Alley. If people were safer and the crime rate was lower, then weren’t Jason’s actions and methods good?

However, Tim would have to file his thoughts for later analysis because the dough was done, and it was time to make the filling.

“Where’d you learn to bake, anyway?” asked Tim as he threw ingredients into a bowl for mixing.

Jason hummed. He didn’t seem to be recalling anything, just stalling. Tim was nothing if not patient, so he concentrated on whisking the stubborn ingredients into a paste. At some point, his struggle was acknowledged, and Jason took the whisk and bowl from his hands and restarted the process in a much more efficient and well-practiced way. 

“Alfred taught me,” The older boy finally conceded, “Although I made cookies with mom sometimes when I was younger and life was easier.”

Tim digested the information. Jason and Tim were obviously not close, but Tim had read his file and recognized the fragility of the information he’d just been given. Jason had just shared this shard of a past life with someone he claimed to hate, and had even tried to kill. Tim had never been much good with any type of social interaction, but he figured an eye for an eye was the way to go.

“My mom doesn’t really bother with things like cookies. We’ve cooked together maybe once or twice in my entire life, but it always had to be something complicated and fancy, like macarons or sushi. It’s all about excellence with her, although I don’t know how she expected me to be any good at rolling sushi at age four.”

“Hmm, rich people problems.”

A surprised laugh burst out of Tim. “Yeah, rich people are kind of stupid.”

“You including yourself in there?”

Tim flicked an egg shell at him and pretended Jason didn’t dodge by accident.

  
  
  


The little queijadas, which had been a nightmare to put into the molds all prim and proper as Alfred would certainly like them, came out of the oven looking golden and delicious. Tim’s chest swelled with pride. He made this! Or, well, he and Jason had, but Tim had done most of the work, so he was entitled to celebrate as he wished.

The boys had spent the twenty minutes it took the queijadas to bake watching Jackson Galaxy help cats and their owners in My Cat From Hell with Lobster observing the program curiously from her perch in the windowsill. Afterwards, Jason taught Tim how to check to make sure their treats were done.

Tim had been wrong. Coming to Jason had been a  _ wonderful _ idea, and this was the most relaxed he’d been in a while. Plus, now Tim felt like he had a better understanding of Jason as a person. It would be way easier to deal with the Red Hood if he remembered he was Jason, who’d helped him bake even though he had no reason to.

“Alright,” said Jason, getting Tim’s attention as he started loading the queijadas into a little cake carrier, “Try not to jostle them around too much if you go by rooftop; they’re gonna end up turned into mush, and I don’t wanna know I wasted an afternoon just because you’re a klutz, kid. And bring me my carrier back or there  _ will  _ be consequences.”

Tim giggled. He was now beginning to understand how empty Jason’s threats had become.

“You know…” Tim began carefully, “I know you don’t want to go to the whole celebration, but maybe you could show up at the end? For Alfred.”

Jason turned away so Tim couldn’t see his expression. Honestly, Tim understood why Jason didn’t want to get within thirty feet of the Manor. Had he, like Jason, been murdered, revived, and brought back home only to find the catalyst of the crumbling of his life still free and healthy, he wouldn't have wanted to revisit that cursed place either.

“You know what, Replacement? Why the fuck not. Can’t be sca- can’t  _ never _ see Alfred again, right?”

Tim wasn’t even ashamed to say he was beaming. Jason shoved his hand in Tim’s face. 

“Pff what kinda face is that, Replacement? Shut up, what do you know anyway?”

_ Yeah _ , Tim thought. This had been a great idea.


End file.
